


Stalking Stiles

by lovelornwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Failwolf, Failwolf not-on-Friday, M/M, also Failhuman, just lots of fail on all sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelornwolf/pseuds/lovelornwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was Tuesday afternoon. Stiles had just finished lacrosse practice and was fantasizing about a warm shower and a nap, so he was not happy when he opened the door to his room and found a werewolf waiting for him in the corner."</p><p>Stiles and Derek fail at communicating with each other. Expect a great deal of eye-rolling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalking Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry there's no smut. Marked 'underage' because Stiles is a teenager and Derek is an adult.

It was Tuesday afternoon. Stiles had just finished lacrosse practice and was fantasizing about a warm shower and a nap, so he was not happy when he opened the door to his room and found a werewolf waiting for him in the corner.

Stiles threw his backpack on the floor. "Okay, that's it, that's enough, NO MORE. You hear me, Derek? This? You breaking into my room? Is not okay."

Derek frowned. "You know I can't come in the front door, Stiles. Your dad would shoot me."

"Ask me if I care. Go on. Ask."

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

Stiles flung up his arms. "New rule: if you want to visit me at my house, you knock on the front door. If whatever bug you've got up your ass isn't worth _maybe getting shot_ or at least glared at by the Sheriff, you can text me instead."

"But—"

"No. Now shoo. Back out the window."

Derek went, expression thunderous.

* * *

"I kicked Derek out of my room last night," Stiles said.

Scott stared at him, mouth open. "You _what?_ "

"I came home and he was creepering in the corner. You know how he does."

"Uh . . . no?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I've complained about it before."

Scott looked guilty. "You have? I mean, you've mentioned that he comes over, but I guess I didn't know it was, er. It didn't seem like complaining."

" . . . I don't know how to respond to that," Stiles said. "If you didn't think I was complaining, why did you think I brought it up all the time?"

His friend coughed and looked away. "Uh. No comment. I must have misunderstood."

A piece of chalk bounced off Stiles's head. Harris was staring at them from the front of the room.

"Mr. Stilinski. Mr. McCall. This is a classroom, not a coffee shop. Concentrate on your lab work or I'll give you both detention."

At lunch, Erica slid into the spot beside him. Boyd sat down across the table.

"Everything okay with you and Derek?" Erica asked.

Stiles shrugged. "Outside his _complete lack of boundaries?_ About the same as ever. Why?"

"Give him some slack. You know he has absolutely no game."

"Why are we talking about his game all of a sudden?" He narrowed his eyes. "Besides which I've seen his game in action and he's got plenty of it. Had Officer Bungalon eating out of his hand in half a second. Asshole."

Erica huffed. "Well, with people he doesn't care about, sure. But you know that doesn't count."

"Doesn't count. Okay. You've lost me." He glanced at Boyd, who shrugged.

"Don't be a smartass," Erica said. "If you don't want to talk about this, just say so."

"I really don't understand anything about this conversation, which you started, so I blame you for how confused and annoyed I am right now, Catwoman."

Erica rolled her eyes and got up. "When you're actually willing to open up, come find me."

Boyd gave Stiles an apologetic smile before following.

* * *

Stiles got a text after school. It was from a number he'd never seen before. All it said was

_PACK MTG TONIGHT MY LOFT 7:30 SHARP_

"What the hell is a 'pack meeting'?" Stiles asked no one. He rolled his eyes and added a new entry titled 'Derek' to his contacts list.

Another message arrived.

_BRING SCOTT_

On the one hand, Stiles had never seen Derek's loft. On the other hand, Stiles was not in the business of just doing whatever Derek ordered him to do.

Finally he broke down and texted Scott. _U going 2 this thing at Derek's tonight?_

A half hour later his phone dinged. _ya issac invitd me. y u wanna go?_

_I guess. Should I pick u up?_

There was no response, and Scott wasn't answering his phone, so Stiles decided to cover his bases by dropping by the McCall house on his way to the loft.

Mrs. McCall answered the door. She looked surprised to see him.

"Uh, Stiles. Hi! You actually knocked this time. Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Just seeing if Scott needed a ride to . . . the thing."

"I think he went with Isaac," she said. "They left, oh, five minutes or so ago?"

Stiles smiled and tried not to grind his teeth. "That's just fine, Mrs. McCall. Good to see you. Catch you later."

Fucking Isaac and fucking Scott and their new-best-friend obsession with each other. Not cool, Scott. Not. Cool.

The loft turned out to be awesome, but the 'pack meeting' was just confusing. Mostly it just seemed to involve the werewolves jumping on each other and knocking each other down. Combat training, or something. There were fewer shirts involved than Stiles would have expected.

Stiles was playing on his phone when Derek sat down next to him.

"You came," Derek said.

"Yeah, but I still don't understand why. I'm not a werewolf. I don't have freaky healing and strength."

"You said to text you."

"Um. I meant if you, I dunno. Needed my help with something."

"Oh."

"Are you guys that desperate for spectators? Should I be cheering?"

Derek grunted. Then he got up and walked away.

How could anyone walk in pants that tight, let alone do acrobatics? It was a mystery.

* * *

Lydia cornered him after third period the next day.

"You left early last night."

"You weren't even there. How do you know—"

"I was busy. Jackson and I got there at 8:30. You were already gone. Why?"

Stiles smiled weakly. "It . . . uh. What they were doing didn't seem to require my help. I stayed and watched them throw each other around for half an hour, and then I got bored."

"Derek brought out brownies when the training was over. We ate them without you." She jabbed a finger at him. "I think Derek _made_ them."

"Okay? That's . . . great. Very domestic, for someone who lives in a gothic steampunk factory loft."

"I don't know what's going on with the two of you, but when the Alpha's down, it affects the whole pack. And since Jackson's part of the pack, it affects me. So get your shit together, Stilinski, or you and I will have a problem." She strode away.

Stiles stared after her, mouth hanging open.

That afternoon, Stiles got another text from Derek.

_WHAT MOVIE DO YOU WANT TO SEE_

Stiles sighed. "Now it's movies?"

He replied, _Like, what movie do I want 2 see that's in theaters now?_

The answer was immediate. _YES. SATURDAY._

"What even is his _deal,_ " Stiles said. He typed out his reply and hit Send.

_I've heard the new Die Hard is terrible, but I'm a completist._

The next text that arrived appeared to have been sent to pretty much everyone Derek knew.

_PACK MOVIE NIGHT SATURDAY - MEET AT LOFT @ 8:30_

"Movie night. Huh." Stiles shrugged. "Oh well. It's not like I have any other plans."

* * *

The movie was _terrible_. Stiles couldn't even believe how terrible it was. As they piled out of the theater he let out a strangled cry of rage.

"Why did we watch this?" he said. "They—they _shat_ on my childhood, right there, that was my childhood. _Die Hard_ was the best Christmas movie ever made, and Bruce Willis and Twentieth Century Fox just took a steaming shit all over it. Oh god I can never get that back why did you take me to that WHYYYYYYYY."

Derek looked taken aback. "You said this was the one you wanted to see."

"And you believed him?" Scott said. He guffawed. "Never ask Stiles what he wants."

"Shut up, Scott," Stiles said.

"No, really, Derek," Scott said. "This is the most important thing I could ever tell you about Stiles: Not even Stiles knows what Stiles wants."

"Why are you doing this, Scott?" Stiles said. "I thought we were bros. Stop slandering me in front of all these not-bros."

"I'm just trying to help," Scott said.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Help with what? What is going on?"

Behind Derek, Stiles saw Erica and Lydia exchange a significant look. Shit, he thought. That can't be good.

* * *

There were no more texts until the next Wednesday, when Stiles got one from Scott.

_can i get a ride 2 pack mtg?_

"Ugh. Pack meeting? Again?"

He replied, _Is that even happening? I don't think I'm gonna go._

Twenty minutes later, his phone dinged again. _its okay im going with issac_

"Goddammit," Stiles said. Fuck Isaac and his friend-stealing ways.

Stiles almost expected to be harassed at school on Thursday about his absence, but instead Erica came up at lunch to invite him to pack movie night.

"You totally have to come," Erica said. "It'll be better than last week, I promise. Please say you'll be there?"

"Okay. When is it again?"

"Saturday. 8:30. At Derek's loft."

"Fine. Sure. I'll come.”

Erica gave him a big hug. "Awesome. It's gonna be a blast."

Lydia stopped him between fifth and six periods.

"Bring your favorite DVDs on Saturday," she said. "We all will, and then we’ll vote on what to watch when we get there."

"So we aren't going to the theater?" he asked.

"Not this week."

"Okay . . ."

"Just bring the movies, Stilinski," she said. She poked him with a hard, pointy finger. "And don't be late."

In sixth period Stiles tapped Scott on the shoulder.

"I don't know if you heard, but we're supposed to bring our own movies on Saturday. Any requests?"

Scott shrugged. "I dunno. Just come with your favorites. Or whatever you want to watch, really."

"What are you bringing?"

"I haven't decided, but they'll be sweet. Promise."

* * *

On Saturday Stiles spent several hours deciding on the perfect movies to bring. He finally settled on the first four _Die Hard_ movies. A probably futile attempt to wash the taste of the fifth one out of his head.

Derek opened the door of the loft before Stiles even had time to ring the bell. They stared at each other for a half-second.

"Uh," Derek said. "Come in." He ducked his head. "No one else is here yet."

"That's okay. You got anything to drink?"

"Milk. And water."

"I'll have a glass of milk."

The main floor of the loft was a single giant space, but one corner had been turned into a gorgeous modern kitchen, all wood and steel and glass. Derek poured two glasses of milk, and then paused.

"I made cookies," he said. "Erica was supposed to bring the soda, and Isaac was going to buy chips."

"What kind of cookies?"

"There's, uh. Peanut-butter fudge, chocolate cherry, and chocolate chip. Oh, and macaroons."

Stiles bit into a peanut-butter fudge cookie. "Oh my god, _dude_. These are amazing."

Derek snorted faintly. "My mom's recipe," he said. "The chocolate cherry are my dad's."

Stiles had a chocolate cherry cookie and almost died on the spot. "This is so good," he said. "I think it might kill me."

"Those are my favorite," Derek said. He picked one up and took a bite.

They munched silently on cookies, stopping every minute or so to drink some milk. Finally, Stiles drained the rest of his glass and let out a contented sigh.

"So where's everyone else?" he asked.

Derek looked annoyed. "Erica canceled," he said. "And Jackson and Boyd aren't answering their phones."

"Erica _canceled?_ Wasn't this her idea?"

"She said she had a family thing."

"What about Scott? and Isaac?"

Derek shrugged.

"Okay, I'll call Scott. You call Isaac."

Scott's phone rang and rang, and finally his voicemail clicked on.

"Hi, this is Scott. You know what to do." **_beeep!_**

"Scott, where are you? You're about to miss out on a totally sweet movie night. Get your butt over here, pronto." He hung up. "Any luck?"

"No answer."

Stiles sighed. "We have the worst friends, you know that?" He giggled. "I mean, I have the worst friend and you have the worst . . . teenage pack members?"

"I know." Derek sighed. "They're good kids, but . . . well."

"No, I'm pretty sure they're the devil," Stiles said. "Except maybe Boyd."

Derek laughed.

Stiles found himself staring. A real laugh transformed Derek's face.

"Anyway," he said. "Is it just us, then?"

“Yeah. Sorry.” Derek cleared his throat. “We could—we could postpone it. If you want.”

“Well . . . it would be a shame to waste all those cookies. Plus you _need_ to see _Die Hard_. So I’m game if you are.”

Derek didn’t have a TV. Or a DVD player. So they ended up watching the movie on a brand new computer that Stiles wasn’t sure had ever been used before.

The loft was chilly, and when Derek noticed Stiles shivering, he got him a blanket and squished up against him to keep him warm. It was a surprisingly thoughtful move for such an inconsiderate asshole werewolf. In fact, the whole evening was surprisingly non-sucky, given how much the two of them hated each other, thought Stiles.

“I had a good time,” Stiles said when they were done with the second _Die Hard_. “Thanks for . . . well, I guess you technically didn’t invite me. But thanks for not kicking me out when everyone else bailed.”

“Thanks for keeping me company,” Derek said.

Stiles thought about a lot of things on the drive home. It had never occurred to him that Derek might be lonely. A week or so ago, that revelation would probably have been accompanied by the thought, “Sure, okay, maybe he’s lonely, but it’s his own damn fault for being such an enormous dickhead.”

Now he just thought about how grateful Derek had looked when Stiles had agreed to stay, how fun the evening had been, and how lonely Derek had looked when Stiles left.

It was ridiculous that someone with that large of a pack was allowed to be lonely. What did ‘pack’ mean if it didn’t mean company and togetherness? It was time to have a talk with Derek’s betas about responsibilities and the shirking thereof.

* * *

On Monday, Stiles managed to track down Erica at her locker between first and second period.

“Hey,” he said. “We need to do something about Derek.”

She blinked. “I don’t—what?”

“I think he’s lonely. I mean, look at all these activities he’s been scheduling. Oh, and by the way—canceling on him last-minute like that? Not okay.”

Her mouth was open. She blinked. “Right,” she said. “I’ll be sure to apologize. Uh, how was the movie night, by the way?”

“Fine, if you ignore the fact that it was just me and Derek. Everyone ditched him, Erica! It was heartbreaking. Pathetic. I mean, I think he had an okay time, but I’m sure he would have preferred anyone’s company other than mine.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“Uh, from the fact that Derek and I _don’t even like each other?_ ” Stiles shook his head.

Erica was biting her knuckle and making a strange, high-pitched sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said in a hoarse tone. “I’m just—I gotta go.” And she ran past him down the hall.

In Economics, Stiles took his usual seat behind Scott.

“Scott.”

Scott was apparently too absorbed with reading the textbook to hear Stiles.

“ _Scott._ ” This time he poked Scott in the back.

No response.

_Poke. Poke. Pokepokepokepoke—_

“WHAT?!” Scott turned around, looking nervous and annoyed.

“Where were you on Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Scott’s eyes were shifty.

“The _pack movie night?_ That you were supposed to _come to?_ ”

“Ohhhhh . . . I uh. I forgot?”

“You forgot? What about the reminder voicemail I left you when you weren’t answering your phone?”

Scott blushed. “I was . . . hanging out with Isaac. I guess we lost track of time.”

Stiles frowned. This thing with Isaac was totally getting out of hand. “‘Hanging out’? Is that code for something?”

“No. We were hanging out.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles knew his mouth had dropped open. “It is code, isn’t it?”

“Huh? Code for what? We were playing video games.”

“Okay, bro. Sure. Whatever you say.” Stiles felt a pang of guilt. Had he missed his best friend’s gay awakening? He still didn’t really want to share Scott with anyone, but he certainly didn’t have any claim on Scott’s dick. He could totally cede that part of Scott to Isaac. He smiled. “You know I support you, right?”

“. . . Yeah?”

“Wherever this thing with Isaac goes. I’ve got your back.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you’re ready to share.”

Now Stiles had two projects: Operation Lonely Alpha and Operation Gay Best Friend. Derek and Scott would both see how supportive he could be.

Lydia came up to Stiles after chemistry.

“Derek isn’t lonely,” she said.

“You and Erica are both in denial,” he said. “You didn’t see him on Saturday. He was actually excited for movie night! He made _four kinds of cookies._ ” Stiles paused. “Okay, three kinds. I’m pretty sure the macaroons were from the grocery store. But _still_.”

“We’re just going to keep doing this until you guys give in,” she said. “One of you will crack sooner or later. I’m betting on Derek, but who knows? You might surprise me.”

“You’re doing this on purpose?” Stiles said. “Are you trying to teach him something about the impermanence of human attachments? That’s _evil_. His entire family _burned to death_ , Lydia. Everyone he cares about leaves him. I’m pretty sure he’s already learned that lesson.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Erica thinks you don’t have a clue, but I choose to believe you’re being deliberately obtuse. Either way, we aren’t giving up. And I always get what I want.” She glared at him. “Remember that.” And she marched away.

Stiles got a text from Derek during lacrosse practice.

_HEY NEED YOUR HELP CAN YOU COME OVER?_

Things had been awfully quiet on the supernatural front lately. It figured that just when Stiles found two projects to give himself purpose something would crop up. On the other hand, maybe he could work on Operation Lonely Alpha during whatever crisis was brewing. Stiles was the king of multitasking, after all.

_yeah sure. What’s up?_

_JUST COME._

Stiles rolled his eyes and tried to remember why it seemed so important to help such a recalcitrant asshole feel appreciated.

He showed up at the loft fifteen minutes after practice ended.

“So what’s the crisis?” he asked when Derek let him in.

Derek wrinkled his nose. “You’re still in your gear,” he asked. “And you stink.”

“Give me a break, I just finished practice! It’s tons of work being knocked over again and again and again. Tends to result in a lot very manly sweating. Also occasionally some manly puking, although I don’t think there was any of that today.”

“Thanks for painting that vivid picture,” Derek said. “But this can wait until you’ve showered and changed. I assume you have semi-clean clothes in that backpack?”

“Uh, yeah. But I was in a hurry. Because I was rushing to help _you_ out!”

“Shower’s upstairs,” Derek said. “Make it quick.” He pointed at the wrought-iron staircase beside the kitchen.

“Why do I even bother trying to help you asshole wolves, you guys are the assiest assholes ever, I swear to _GOD_ ,” Stiles muttered as he climbed.

The stair made one and a half turns before opening on the upper floor of the loft, which was _gorgeous_. One half appeared to be a bedroom, furnished with sleek, modern furniture. Impeccably kept, too—Stiles didn’t think there was a single speck of dust anywhere, and the bed was made more carefully than in a hospital. The other half was a workout room, full of massive kettlebells and weights Stiles didn’t think he could even budge, let alone lift.

The bathroom was beautiful, almost sybaritic. The tub was wide and deep, like a Jacuzzi for two—except indoors. The shower had seventeen showerheads and nozzles, each shooting jets of steaming water or warm air. Stiles maybe took a longer shower than usual just to give himself time to enjoy it. Hey, it beat the locker room showers by a mile. He wondered if he should start a new project: Operation Gain Regular Access to Alpha’s Awesome Shower.

“So what’s up?” Stiles said when he came down.

Derek was in the kitchen, bent over something on the counter. He appeared to be poking or dabbing at it with a spatula. He straightened and turned.

“Uh, I made a cake,” he said.

“A cake?”

Derek gestured at the pink and white confection behind him. “It’s a whipped-cream strawberry cake.” He cleared his throat. “Just trying out ideas for the next pack meeting, and, well. It won’t keep, and I can’t eat the whole thing.”

Stiles was pretty sure that last part was a lie. Werewolf stomachs did not seem to abide by everyday physical laws; he’d watched Scott put away his actual weight in pizza for instance. But he let this slide.

“You called me over for a _cake?_ ”

“You said to text you if I needed help. You seemed to enjoy the cookies last week, so I thought—“ Derek stopped, looking embarrassed. “It was a stupid idea.”

“No, of course it wasn’t,” Stiles said. “I am frequently extremely helpful at disposing of food, I’m glad you thought of me. It’s a talent I pride myself on.”

“Okay. So.” Derek coughed. “You’ll try it?”

“Count me in,” Stiles said.

Derek grinned and started cutting a massive slice.

It was kind of sad that Derek didn’t think he could ask for his pack’s help with something like this, thought Stiles. Did he think he couldn’t hang out with the betas except during pack meeting?

“Is it okay if I invite the others?” Stiles said. “Or . . . did you invite them already?”

Derek paused. “You feel uncomfortable here? Alone with me?”

“No!” Stiles said. “No, that’s not it at all. I just figured you might . . . It’s not fair that you have to put up with me like this, is all.”

“Put up with you like what?” Derek was staring at him.

“I know we’re not exactly friends,” Stiles said. “It’s not fair that you have to hang out with me because your pack ignores you. I know they have their own lives, but they owe so much to you. They should show their appreciation more. Hang out with you outside of pack meetings, that kind of thing.”

The look on Derek’s face was hard to interpret. A laugh mixed with confusion mixed with . . . an eye-roll? Yep, that was an eye-roll.

“My betas don’t ignore me,” Derek said. “They can’t; I’m their alpha. That’s the point, really. They have to hang out with me if I tell them to. You don’t have to.” He set a plate with the enormous wedge of strawberry cake on the counter in front of Stiles. “It means more when you spend time with me, because of that.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. He knew he was blushing. He tried to cover it up by stuffing a bite of cake in his mouth. A second later he had forgotten everything else in the world except strawberries and whipped cream. “ _Jefuf Chrift thif if AMAVING_ ,” he moaned.

Derek just smiled and reached out to wipe a smear of cream off his cheek. Stiles hoped the werewolf didn’t notice the way his heart stuttered at that casual touch.

“I have to—wow,” Stiles said. “The cake’s amazing but I gotta go. I’ll . . . I’ll text you later?” And he picked up his gear and was out the door.

* * *

Okay, so maybe Scott wasn’t the only one going through a gay awakening.

“Ugh,” Stiles said. He was pacing around his room, remembering the way Derek looked in that tight gray henley. Remembering his unreal green/hazel eyes. Remembering the feel of his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

But this wasn’t fair to Derek, who was lonely and needed friends, not horny teenagers rubbing themselves all over him. The one almost-friend Derek had could not suddenly start molesting him, objectifying him. Lusting after that perfect ass.

No.

He pulled out his phone and texted Scott.

_I need to talk to some1. Can u come over?_

The answer came surprisingly quickly, and was also surprisingly legible. _Sure. Be right there._

Scott bounded up the stairs ten minutes later.

“What’s up?” he said. “You look, er. Upset.”

“You aren’t attracted to Derek, are you?” Stiles said.

His friend’s mouth fell open. “Uh . . . what?”

Stiles sighed. “Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be? But you’re taken, right? That might help. Unless you guys are into threesomes.”

“Taken? _Threesomes?_ ”

“Please tell me you’re monogamous, Scott,” Stiles said. “I need a wingman to keep me from molesting Derek.”

“What are you even talking about,” Scott said. “Why are you worried about molesting Derek?”

“I was trying to help him, Scott, and it all went wrong when I realized how _hot_ he is. I didn’t even know I wasn’t straight! It’s not my fault, right? How long have you known, by the way?”

“That you aren’t straight?”

“No, that you were into Isaac.”

Scott blushed a bright red. “I’m not ‘into’ Isaac.”

Stiles frowned. “That’s awkward. There’s no point having this conversation until you can at least admit it to yourself.”

“Forget Isaac,” Scott said. “What were you saying about Derek?”

“If you can’t be my wingman, maybe I could—“ Stiles stopped. “That’s it! I just have to hook him up with someone else, and then I’ll be safe around him again. I mean, he’ll be safe around me.” He grabbed Scott’s shoulders. “Danny! Scott, is Danny still single?”

“I think so? I dunno. Danny and I aren’t close or anything.”

“Well at least we know he likes Derek,” Stiles mused.

“How do we know that?” Scott looked like he was about to run away from the conversation.

“Except he thinks his name is Miguel. Do you think I could get Derek to let Danny call him ‘Miguel’?”

“I am so confused right now, Stiles.”

“You’re right, probably not. We’ll just have to tell Danny the truth. Well, some of the truth. Okay, a _little_ of the truth.”

Scott grabbed Stiles now. “Stiles. Stop! What is going on?”

“He fed me cake, Scott,” Stiles said. “You know how susceptible I am to falling in love with people who can cook.”

“Derek fed you cake?”

“It was amazing,” Stiles said. “And then he touched my face, and it was _over_.”

“He touched your face.” Scott looked solemn. “Was that a bad thing?”

“No, it was amazing.”

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“I was trying to be his _friend_ ,” Stiles said. “Everyone’s always ditched him. His whole life, he’s lost people. I can’t fuck this up now because I suddenly discovered that I want to naked-touch him.”

Scott snorted. “You’re ridiculous,” he said. “You’re _both_ ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Lydia thinks we should let you guys figure it out yourselves, but—“ Scott’s phone chimed. He looked at the screen. “Erica says ‘don’t you dare,’” he said.

“‘Don’t you dare’ what?”

“You’re as bad as Derek,” Scott said.

“I’m what?”

“No, I’m talking to Erica. Stop creeping around like that and go away.” He paused. “Okay, okay, I won’t tell him. Now leave.”

“Erica’s _here?_ Hey, Catwoman, get your delicious ass up here _right now._ ”

Two seconds later there was a knock at the window, and Stiles went over to let Erica in.

“How much of that did you hear,” Stiles said.

“All of it,” Erica said. “What kind of cake was it?”

“Strawberry and whipped cream,” Stiles said. “But that’s not the point.”

“The _point_ is that you and Derek both need to have an actual conversation instead of circling each other like this. It’s driving everyone else crazy.”

“Derek and I talk.”

“But not about the right things,” Erica said. “Have you ever told him you want to ‘naked-touch’ him?”

“No. My plan depends on him never finding that out.”

“What plan?” Scott said.

“He thinks Derek is dying of loneliness or something,” Erica said. She rolled her eyes. “Listen Stiles, Derek never hangs out with anyone. Ever. Except you.”

“I know. He said it . . . meant more when I spent time with him. Because I didn’t have to.”

“Ugh,” Erica said. “Why are you so obtuse? Stiles, you and Derek want to spend time with each other. Stop making it so difficult and just _do it._ ” And she jumped out the window.

* * *

School was extremely awkward the next day. At lunch, Scott and Isaac sat off by themselves, talking and glancing over at Stiles. Lydia pretended he didn’t exist all through chemistry. Erica glared at him when she passed him in the hall. At lacrosse practice, Boyd shook his head in what felt like disappointment.

Stiles sent Derek a text that evening. _Hey can we talk?_

Derek’s reply arrived half a millisecond later. _SURE. WHEN/WHERE?_

_I’ll drop by the loft in fifteen. That okay?_

_YUP._

Stiles was at the door to the loft twelve and a half minutes later.

“I don’t think I can be your friend,” Stiles burst out when the door opened.

Derek looked at him somberly. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh. Okay. For a minute, I guess.” He stepped inside and wrung his hands nervously. “I wanted to be your friend, because I think it’s obvious that you _need_ friends.”

“I hate people,” Derek said, scowling. “What makes you think I want friends?”

“I didn’t say ‘want,’ I said ‘need,’” Stiles said.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. What makes you think I _need_ friends?”

“Well, the fact that you don’t have any, for one,” Stiles said. “And the way you crave companionship. I mean, why else would you go out of your way to hang out with someone you don’t even like?”

“Doesn’t sound like me, true,” Derek said, folding his arms.

“So we’re on the same page, then.”

“Not remotely. But go on.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “I have, uh, _feelings_ for you. I blame Scott, really, for putting the idea into my head with the way he and Isaac have been carrying on. Not that I’m anything but supportive of their relationship!”

There was that mixed-up expression on Derek’s face again. “Scott and _Isaac?_ ” he said.

“Yeah, oops? I probably wasn’t supposed to blurt that out, I don’t think they’re telling anyone yet.”

“You’re really oblivious, has anyone ever told you that?”

Stiles frowned. “Uh, no, usually I’m accused of being way too curious and sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Well, you are, at least in one very specific domain—you’re completely blind to the idea that anyone might be interested in you.”

“Hey, no I’m not!”

“You are,” Derek said. “You haven’t factored it in as a possibility in this scenario at all.”

Stiles was staring. “Are you talking about Erica? Because she told me she was over that. And what does that have to do—”

Derek was suddenly standing very close. “No, dumbass. I’m talking about me.”

Stiles let out a bleat and stepped back into the closed front door. “Please don’t tear my throat out,” he said.

“I would never,” Derek said. He leaned close and sniffed Stiles’s neck. “Do you have any idea how amazing you smell?”

“Uh, yesterday you were complaining about my smell, if I remember.”

“I was lying. It was the smell of those other guys all over you that I couldn’t stand.” He rubbed his mouth against Stiles’s chin.

“Oh god have you been infected by—by sex pollen or something?”

Derek looked him in the eyes. “No. I always feel this way around you.” He ran a hand across Stiles’s head. “Why did you think I spent so much time in your room?”

“Uh . . .”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I couldn’t stay away. From you, from your smell. Your _eyes_.”

“You’re addicted to me?”

Derek laughed.

“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” Stiles said. “I could get addicted to that.”

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asked.

“I mean, naturally you’re beautiful when you laugh, you’re always beautiful,” Stiles said. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” And then he pulled Derek’s beautiful mouth against his.

* * *

Scott wasn’t answering his phone (of course) so Stiles dropped by his house. It was his first time to first base, there was no way he wasn’t babbling about it to his best friend.

No one answered the door, so Stiles just let himself in with his key. (Mrs. McCall hadn’t demanded he get rid of it, which was the same as tacit approval in his mind.)

“Scott?” he called. No answer.

Oh well. He could wait in Scott’s room for a bit. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He’d kissed Derek Hale! This was a red-letter day for his diary, or would be if he had a diary. Scott’s door swung open. Scott and Isaac were too busy making out to notice him. Isaac’s hand appeared to have disappeared down Scott’s pants.

“I knew it!” Stiles said. “Dude, I told you I knew it.”

Scott and Isaac broke apart, looking red and embarrassed.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Scott said. “We were just—“

He and Isaac exchanged a glance.

“It’s your fault,” Isaac said. “For putting the idea in our heads.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, whatever, I totally called it.”

Scott sniffed pointedly. “You smell like Derek.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles said. “Yeah, we’re dating. Or something? We were too busy kissing to hash out the details.”

“Fine. I’m happy for you,” Scott said. “Maybe the two of you will be a little less impossible to be around. Now go away.” And he and Isaac started making out again.

“Ugh, I think I actually liked you better when you were straight,” Stiles said, and closed the door.

His phone buzzed. _WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?_

He laughed. At least he already had another project to occupy him: Operation Teach the Alpha How To Turn Off Capslock on His Phone.

Also, apparently, Operation Phonesex.

 _You know what I’m wearing,_ he replied. _But if you give me a minute I’ll be at home and I can start taking stuff off. Sound good?_


End file.
